Slave Girl
by Carter Casterwill
Summary: People have written stories where Dante is a prince and Zhalia is a princess with an arranged marriage. Heres what I think. Princes Lok and Den are engaged to princesses Sophie and Carter. Prince Dante refuses to marry anyone, especially Lady Scarlett, the red headed brat. That is, until he meets an abused slave girl named Zhalia Moon. Will the perfect Prince Dante break the rules?
1. Prologue

**Zhalia**

"Let me go!" I screamed, tugging against the iron chains that were wrapped around my wrists, not giving up, but instead, struggling to stand by my family, "What are you doing?" It's not fair! The Slave Trade wasn't fair! It split families and tore people apart. My master was trying to reason with the person that had bought me. Why did it have to be me? Why did my family have to be slaves? Couldn't we just be normal people for once?

"Help me!" I screeched at my parents, not wanting to be taken by some stranger. My mom held me tight, not wanting to let me go. She made a promise to us kids last night and she wasn't going to break it. I hoped that, no matter how much pulling and jerking that the man did, it wouldn't take me from my family's grasp.

"Stop." My dad demanded, for the billionth time wishing he was free. "She is only six." My master was still trying to reason with the other man. I was only six. I couldn't do anything. I've never done much work before. What was I supposed to do anyway?

"Please," my master reasoned, "Zhalia is only six and has not been worked before. She has no idea how to do any labor. Nor have I ever hurt her in any way. Might I suggest to you another slave instead?" The chains on my wrists were tugged. It pulled me forward, but my mom held me fast. The man shot a reply back but my mom covered my ears, not letting me hear it.

"Please," my sister, Kylee, pleaded, stepping forward, placing her eight year old self infront of me. "Do not take Zhalia. Take me instead." The chains were tugged again and it pulled me out of my mother's arms. This was it, I guess. The Slave Trade always won. I knew it. My parents knew it. My siblings knew it. But this time, I wasn't going to let them win. I was my own person and I should be able to make my own choices.

"No!" I cried, yanking my arms back away from the man. I was only six, however. He kept pulling me forward. I continued to fight against the man. My dad held my mom, who was now crying into his shoulders, knowing that the Slave Trade would win and she would loose her daughter. Kylee, my brothers Luke and Zane, and my older sister Skia were begging the man not to take me. Making such a fuss over me. The one time I alowed it, however.

"Please," Skia said, putting her arm in front of me, making the man stop for a minute. "My sister is only six. I am twelve. Take me instead. I have been worked before and I can do more than her. Just, please, do not take Zhalia." The man looked over at the person who bought me, his eyes pleading him not to take me. The other man shouted something over to me and my family, but this time, Skia covered my ears.

"Now," The other man said threw gritted teeth, "I want the little girl and that's final." I felt something I never felt before, fear. Fear that I was going to be taken. Fear that I won't ever see my family again. And that gave me more strength. I wasn't going to let my fears become reality. Never in a million years would I.

Those million years passed rather quickly. The man pulled me up to him using the chain. My master had left his conversation and put a comforting hand on my mother's shoulder. The man held me tightly in his arms. Though, he seemed like he didn't want to do this, but he had too.

"Now, now, dear." He whispered in my ear, sounding soft and soothing, "Be a good girl and come with me." That was the last thing I wanted to do. I wasn't a good girl. That was something everyone knew about me and I tended to keep it that way.

"I am not a good girl." I said threw gritted teeth. I crashed my elbow into his chest. He stumbled back, surprised, but he didn't drop the chain like I had hoped. He pulled me back to the cart and picked me up carefully around the waist. I struggled to break free, but he had a strong grip around me. As he put me in the back of the cart, I saw my dad holding my mom in his arms. Kylee, Zane, Skia, and Luke were screaming at the man. I nearly cried. This couldn't be happening! Not to me! Not to my family!

The man climbed in the back himself as the other man got in the front. My hands were still chained together, but I sat up to try to see them again. Daddy still had Mommy in his arms. She looked like she was ready to collapse to the ground. Master had Skia in his arms and was stroking her hair as my sister cried. Kylee, Zane, and Luke had knelt on the ground in defeat, Zane hugging Kylee while the two of them cried.

The cart started to move and only then did I realize that my necklace, my pretty necklace with the midnight blue gem, had disappeared. I had only gotten it that day! This wasn't fair.

I layed down on the floor of the cart, silently crying. The man who had put me in the car in the first place gave me a small, sad smile and softly rubbed my back. This was the worst day ever.

 **3rd Person View**

During all of this, no one saw a tiny figure clocked in black.

It watched the slave trade up on a hill. It watched the midnight blue haired slave girl struggle against the man. It bit it's bottom lip as It watched the little slave girl be loaded in the cart, struggling to break free. Then, as if all of that didn't matter, she laid down in the cart.

"I promise, Little Girl," the figure said, sadly watching as the two men got in. "I will stop the Slave trade. No matter how long it will take. Just wait. You will be free." The cart left, as did a little of the figure's heart. As it did everytime It watched this happen. He felt it, a small connection to her, a small Slave Girl he had never met before. But why?

The figure turned to run home. It's cloke flew off as it ran. It was a boy, no older than eight. And that boy promise to the Little Girl that he would do everything in his power to stop the Slave trade. But, before he gotten more than twenty feet, he stopped and turned back around, running down to the Slave Trade. Everyone had cleared out, but he was looking around.

There on the ground, was a necklace. He picked it up and slid it in his pocket, feeling closer to the girl. This time, he ran home. But not before looking back.

 **Hey! This is the edited version for it! I hope you enjoy!**

 **-C.C.**


	2. As If Getting Married Wasn't Enough

**Dante**

I slammed my hands on the table. This was blasphemy! If I didn't want it, then I didn't want it. Period! Why is Father pushing me towards this? I refuse. Why is it that even though I am the prince, about to be King, Father thinks it's a good idea to arrange marriages? Absolutely ridiculous.

"I do not wish to marry Scarlett, Father." I said, trying to control my temper, "I wish not to marry at all." My father, the king, King Metz, sighed. Even though I had explained this many a time, he still pushed me towards Scarlett or any other woman he saw fit. I absolutely dispised it.

"Dante, you are to be king one day." He sighed, trying to get me to understand. "You need a queen to rule with you. When are you going to realize this?" I had heard this speech many times. He knows I can handle things on my own. Why do I need to be married?

"Father, we have tried everything that you could think of. The Selection was our last resort." I remembered the Selection. I hated it. My siblings, who understood me very well, had too. At least they were on my side about this. But they were also way younger than me, so they didn't fully understand.

"My boy," Father said, getting abit impatient with me. "You sent every one of those girls home within an hour's time." True, I had. But Father should know why. I refuse to marry. I have no need too. If only Father would understand.

"Father," I said, trying to keep my cool, "those girls are not what I want." To be honest, they weren't. No one was. They were all only interested in me because I was the prince. If I had been anyone else, I doubted anyone would care. And sometimes I wished that I was just a normal person.

"Dante," Father said, trying to get me to understand,"you are to be king in two month's time. You need to marry." I ran a hand threw my auburn hair.

"But Father..." I started, but I was cut off by my sister, Alana, coming into the room. She looked beautiful as ever. Her curly blond hair bounced around her shoulders, just as Mother's had.

"Father, Dante." She said, nodding at us. Then, she turned to Father, "Father, have you seen Lady Scarlett?" Great, more talk about the red headed brat. Perfect.

"I have not, my dear." Father said. I nodded in agreement. Truth be told, I hadn't and was very glad I hadn't.

"Well," Alana said, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, "Such a shame. I'm off to see Jason. He is too meet me by the stables." She turned to leave, brushing down her light blue dress. Then, as if remembering something she turned back and looked at me. "Are you to marry her, Dante?"

"Really, Lana?" I asked, rolling my eyes at my sister's remark,"You know I despise her."

"Such a shame." Alana said, shaking her head, mocking me. "She truely is... unique." I shook my head, and looked back at Father. Alana gave a small laugh and quietly left the room.

"Where might the boys be?" I asked, changing the subject. I didn't want to talk about my love life anymore. If I wanted to marry, it would be for love. Not because I needed a Queen.

"I believe that they are with the girls." Father sighed an shook his head, "They are most likely planning something new to do." I smiled. They were always planning something. Most of the time, it was something dangerous or silly, but that's what made them my siblings.

"Thank you, Father." I said, turning to leave. Whatever they were planning, I wanted part in. You never knew what could happen with them, but it was always fun. And it was perfect to get to know the Princesses better.

"Dante," Father called after me, "I am giving you two month's time to find a wife. If not, you shall marry Scarlett." And we're back to the topic at hand. I was going to avoid it for a while.

"Yes, Father." I replied, it was a fair trade. But, hopefully I could find someone else by , I left the room to find my siblings. Who knows where they were.

Blood wise, I had 3 siblings, two brothers, Lok and Den, and Alana. But both of the twins were engaged to two Princesses from two other kingdoms. I loved them all.

Alana was 6 years younger than me, hitting age 22. She was a beautiful woman with men falling for her left and right. But she never cared for them. She took after our Mother, with her curly blond hair and blue eyes. Whenever I looked at her, she reminded me of her.

I looked over the Garden balcony to see four of my siblings there. Lok and one of the girls, Sophie, were sitting on a bench with a piece of paper between them. Den and the other girl, Carter, were sitting in the grass, tinkering with some sort contraption. This should be good.

Okay, Carter's name wasn't Carter. It was Carolina, but we called her Carter, it was her wish. She said that she hardly ever reacted when someone from her strict home called her Carolina. That she'd rather be here than there, where her father was breathing down her neck all day.

"What might you guys be working on?" I shouted down to them. They all looked up at me. They motioned for me to come down, being really secretive. I looked around to see if anyone was nearby, but I found no one. I decided to be just Dante right now and I jumped off the railing, landing on the ground with a thud.

"If my father had been here, you would have received a long talking too just now." Carter giggled. "You are awesome!" I smiled and walked over to where they were. I knelt next to Carter and Den, studying their contraption.

"What might you guys be planning now?" I asked, ruffling Carter's silky brown hair. "And, I want in." They smiled and gestured for Lok and Sophie to join them. And then, they explained their plans.

They were pretty fun plans. They working on a prank for Scarlett, which put me on board instantly. After explaining, they asked me to carry somethings for them. After setting up, we went to get ready for dinner.

In the dinning hall sat my whole family. Father sat at the head of the table wearing the clothes he had either, with green dressy shirt and kaki color pants. Next to him sat Alana in a deep pink dress her her braided hair held a gold tiara. Lok sat across from her, wear a white shirt with a blue dress shirt over it and his thin crown of silver nestled into his blond hair, hiding it well. Next to him, sat his twin Den in a white shirt, deep red pants and a gold sash and a thin crown of silver in his brown hair to match Lok. Across from Lok sat Sophie in a pink dress with a pink cape with white trim. She wore her tiara with a pink gem in the middle. And finally, next to Sophie and across from Den, sat Carter. She wore a sky blue dress and her brown hair held a silver circlet to match the boys.

I sat down at the foot of the table, it being my normal spot. I tucked a letter into my black coat pocket and fixed the thin, gold crown in my hair. Lets just say I wasn't very well perpared for dinner. I had been to busy writing a letter to a man named Rassimov.

"Greetings, Dante." Carter said cheerfully, putting her elbows on the table and folding her hands together, resting her chin on them. I smiled, Carter always let loose around her and did what she wanted, because, what Den told me anyway, at home, she couldn't

"Father," I said after nodding at Carter, looking over at him, "I have a letter I shall like to deliver myself. I am to leave after dinner." Father nodded, knowing he wouldn't change my mind. Especially after what happened earlier. I nodded back, and we began to eat, chatting about whatever.

 **3rd Person View**

A guard pulled a women with him. It was the troublesome slave girl, Zhalia Moon. He never really thought of her as troublesome, however. He'd known her since she was first bought. He knew she was very determined. And, as much as he hated it, he was all most always the one to being her to him. To it. To be punished, and he hated it. Why did he have to be the one to bring her to this?

Zhalia's hazel eyes didn't look the least bit afraid, which was good. Rather, she looked annoyed. Her midnight blue hair continued to fall in her face, almost completely covering her left eye. The chains left a red mark on her olive skin, which made him feel worse, but orders were orders. Her sky blue dress hung in tatters around the area around her feet. Obviously, she had put up a fight with the guards before she was handed off to him.

The guard gave her a look of pity and carefully pushed her into the room. Orders were orders and he couldn't disobey them under any means. Not in this place, anyway.

"She was caught trying to escape... again." The guard sighed, not being able to look the man of the house in the eyes, knowing that he probably knew this was going to happen and he already had it all shot him a look, half angry that he had mention her escaping again, half questioning why he did in the first place, knowing that that he wouldn't really care what happened. All he wanted was a small reason to hurt her.

"Oh, Zhalia," the man said, getting sick of the same old thing, but never sick of hurting her. "What am I to do with you? Sit." Zhalia sat on the floor, knowing that disobeying wouldn't help her situation. She tugged at the chains and the guard leaned down and took them off for her.

"Come to me when you can get up again." He whispered, knowing what was going to happen and taking alittle time to take off the chains, "I have something that might help with you're wounds, depending on how bad they are." She nodded and gave him a grateful look. He gave her a smile and stood back up straight, chains hanging in his hand.

"Leave us." The man said, gestering with his hand to the bored looking female sitting on the floor, stepping closer to her and slipped a dagger out from his sleeve. "And would you be so kind to shut the door?" Zhalia saw the dagger and her eyes widened. Not that. Not that again.

The guard sighed and walked out of the room. As he was shut the door, he could hear the female's screams and her shaking on the ground. This was never going to stop, the guard knew it. He just hoped Zhalia could survive this one.


	3. In A Pool Of Blood

**Hey! You didn't see this going to be up, now did you? Yes, I'm continuing it. The last chapter was a prank and I'm surprised that I fooled all of you! It wasn't my idea, though. It was my brother, RuneCasterwill's. He's formally known as BloodRune559 or BloodRuneCaster. Okay, so it wasn't all my idea.**

 **I want to thank Emyy250, Maryamdxz, guest, guest, Irene Rays, F, and guuest. So, thanks to F and guuest for flaming me. I have a speech for you.**

 **Alright, this is for everyone who reads my book.**

 **Listen. You don't have to like my story. You don't have to like my characters. And you definitely don't have to like my form of writing. BUT, this is my story and I can writemy story how ever I want. I can portray my characters how ever I want. And I can write my story how I want. You don't have to like it. Of course, Emyy250, I'll try to make Zhalia be her sarcastic self, but I'm bad at it.**

 **So, basically, what I'm telling you is; if you don't like my book, than leave.**

 ***everyone leaves my book* I rest my case.**

 **Okay, I feel like posting the second chapter anyone, but I won't have any reads.**

* * *

 **Dante**

After dinner, I left the castle. I needed to go there and see it happening once again, even thought it was too painful to watch. After a while, as I was walking, I passed hill, I found it, the slave trade. I stood and watched for a while with a heavy heart. My cape fluttered and my hair flowed in my face.

Down at the slave trade, there was the scene from 20 years ago all over again, like every day was repentance of it. I could remember every detail. There was a little girl about 6 or 7 fighting to stay with her family. The whole thing replayed and before I knew it, the slave trade ended. Everyone left. I went down where the little girl was standing. After roaming around for a while, my amber eyes caught a leather string on the ground, under a few piles of dirt. I picked it up and examined it. It turned out to be a necklace which looked exactly like the other necklace I had found in exact same place, the necklace of the midnight blue haired girl, the one from 20 years ago.

"For the love of Casterwill, two of them in the same place after all these years…I reckon there must be more." I said. I investigated the necklace a bit more carefully. Something seemed different about it. I pulled out the other one, which I had in my pocket. Sure enough, I was right.

The first one was a gold, thin, swirly shape. It had a midnight blue gem in it and a little leather string. The second one was in the same shape, but it was silver instead of gold. Like the first one, it had it an auburn gem in the middle of it and instead of a leather string, it had a metal chain. I put the gold one back in my pocket and put the silver one around my neck. That way, I felt closer to the girl, closer to my purpose. This necklace will remind me of what I have started and what I am bound to finish. I promised.

"It is about to get dark soon." I said, "I better get going." And I continued on my way.

 **Zhalia**

I cried out as the dagger got deeper into my leg. He always did this to me. It hurt so much.

"You know, my dear," my master, Rassimov, said, "if you didn't try to run away so much, we would not be here doing this and you would not be feeling this pain. But you have not learned your lesson. If you would not run away, I would not inflict this pain on you." I screamed out loud as he continued to draw lines on my leg. Pain shot up my leg and I screamed again.

"Yeah, right." I muttered, low enough so he didn't hear, "You would do this to me no matter what I did. Only in your dreams would I stop running away! I am not like your other perfect brainless obedient pets. I WILL escape your shadow." He raised his eyebrows and pressed the dagger harder in my leg. I screamed. Tears welled up in my eyes but I won't cry. Never again would I satisfy him by crying. I will never be weak in front of him or drop my level.

He had been doing this to me ever since I was eight. The first two years I was here, when I was six and seven, he used a whip. There are still scars on my back from it. I guess he figured the whip didn't work. Ever since then, he's been using a dagger. I am surprised of how stupid he is to see it doesn't work either. Nothing will ever work! I will always try to escape! My legs, all the way up to the start of my chest, were covered in scars, scars from him. And he never stopped. Only when he felt like it would he stop.

"Zhalia," Rassimov called, "you are mine. You always have been and you always will be." He said that every time. I knew where this was going.

After he was done toying with me, he would leave to do other things, leaving me nearly unconscious in a pool of my own blood. Then, when I had enough strength to move, I would get up and leave with my dress bloodied. After that, I would clean and bandage my wounds, change my dress, and wash the bloodied dress. That action would repeat just about every day. It wasn't heathy and I was surprised that I had lived this long. I would die soon. He was cruel, vicious, and cold-hearted.

"Zhalia," Rassimov asked, "What do you accomplish from running away? You know what will happen then. You will be caught. You will be chained, tight. And you will be brought before me. And you know what will happen then, don't you?"

Yes, I knew. He would have someone chain me to a bed and Rassimov would torture me with the dagger. Every day, he would draw new lines on me. Just to hear my screams. Every day, I would slowly die of the pain, of the blood loss, of the infection. Yes, I knew what would happen. He had reminded me a lot.

"What do you accomplish from running away?" Rassimov asked again.

"I accomplish getting away from you." I said, "Getting away from the life where you treat me like I'm an object, to not spend another day having to see your stupid face!" Woops. That wasn't the smart thing to say. Rassimov's eyes flashed murderous. He moved over to my right arm and I screamed as I felt him slowly and carefully carve the letter O in my arm. A V followed and that fate I just mentioned was mine. One letter every time I got too far… and now he had baptized my arm with his stupid name.

 **Carter**

After Dante left, Den got up and dragged me to his room.

"What is the meaning of this?" I asked. Den shot a playful glance my way.

"Help!" I playfully shouted, "Den's kidnapping me!" Den put his hand over my mouth.

"Shhh," Den said, "come quietly and you won't get hurt." I smiled and played along with him.

He led me to his room. I sat on his bed. He went over to his desk. He then opened a drawer.

"Close your eyes." Den instructed. I did. A minute later, he told me to open them again.

"Happy birthday!" He said. I gasped. In Den's hand was a sketch book and a package of charcoal.

"Oh, Den!" I said as he sat them next to me, "I love it!" I got up and hugged him.

"I know how much you love art and I noticed you did not have your stuff with you this time. So, I bought you some for your birthday." Den said. I kissed him on the cheek.

"I think it is simply lovely." I said, "Thank you." He smiled.

"Will you teach me something?" Den asked. I nodded.

"Gladly." I said. We sat down and I began to play art mentor.

 **Dante**

I walked into Rassimov's house. It was huge, but not as big as the castle. As I looked around, I saw lots of slaves all around, which made me glad I had dismissed mine. There were people my age. There were little kids and adults. They looked up at me as I passed. Again, I felt great sorrow for one of them, I felt a great pity.

I walked into the huge meeting room. Rassimov stood in the middle of the room, with his back to me. But what really caught my eye was the figure in the shadows.

In the far right corner, stood a woman about my age. She had long midnight blue hair that I could only assume hit her middle back, and one strand seemed to stay in her face. She was wearing a long, sky blue dress with a leather belt and a leather coller holding the dress up. One side of the dress, the right side, was alot darker than the left side, but since she was in the shadows, I couldn't see why. She kept huffing and folding her arms over her chest, while turning her head or turning all the way around, so I could assume she was talking to someone.

Rassimov, just then, turned around.

"Checking out my slave, I see." He said with an evil glint in his eyes. I blushed a light shade of pink and turned to face him.

"I have a letter for you." I said. He nodded and I gave it to him.

Just then, the woman stepped out of the shadows. She had pale skin and hazel eyes. Her dak side of her dress was blood. She was a slave. An abused one, from the looks of her.

Jerking my eyes away from the slave, I knew I shouldn't. It wasn't my business, but still. Like everyone else who was a slave, I pitied her.

I looked back at Rassimov, relieved to see that he wasn't looking at me, but at the slave.

"How much for two month's time of her service?" I blurted out. Rassimov snapped his head back around. He had a surprised look on his face. Glancing over, the slave did too.

"Oh," Rassimov said, waving his hand, "You shallnt want her. Troublesome girl, she is. Gives enough trouble on her own. I'll spare you the trouble."

"You just want to toy with me some more." The slave said, surprising both me and Rassimov.

"I'm a person, you know." She continued, putting her hands on her hips, "I'm not your personal play thing." She had an angry glare in her eyes. Rassimov returned her glare with one of his own.

"You are already in deep trouble, my dear." He said, her face scrunched up when her when he said, my dear, "Let us not make it worse." She huffed.

"Who cares?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest, "Let's see you shut me up."

"You would not want me to do that." Rassimov replied.

"Try me." She retorted. Rassimov waved his hand.

"I'll deal with you later." He said. Then, he turned to me.

"What did I tell you?" He asked, "Troublesome. I am unable to barely keep her under control. I have a right mind to put her under. That troublesome girl." I glanced at the slave. Her eyes were wide in surprise. Apparently, this was new news to her.

As he spoke, I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. To me, killing a slave was just as bad as killing a noble, a lord or lady. It wasn't right. I, though, seemed to be the only one who knew that.

"How much?" I asked again, determined to get my way. Not to let her be killed in the hands of Rassimov. In the mercy of an abusive man. In my opinion, he was the troublesome one.

 **Hello my lovely hot dogs! How are you today?**

 **I wouldlike to thanks my awesome, new beta-reader, Irene Rays! She helped me alot with Zhalia's point of view. I wrote it, and she added somethings to it. Thanks, Irene!**

 **Okay, also, I would like to thank all my awesome readers here! Thank you for reading this and commenting. Everyone has been a blessing to me on here and I'm glad I found a found a place where I fit in. Thanks for telling me how awesome my work is, even though I think it's rubbish. But, that's what a fanfiction family is for!**

 **See you all in my next update!**

 ***smile* say awesome!**

 **With all Huntik and awesomeness,**

 **-Carter Casterwill**


	4. The String and Cloth Package

**Zhalia**

I don't know how to react. Rassimov just said that he wanted to kill me for being troublesome, which was new news to me, and this man still wanted me.

"Well," my friend, Olivia, whispered, "He can't be good if he's still asking for you. You're in for it now!" I turned back to her and gave her my coldest stare.

"Relax." I replied, crossing my arms over my chest, "I highly doubt that he will let me go. Anyway, he can't be worse than Rassimov here." I heard someone clear their throat and I knew Rassimov had heard me. I gave a small, awkward smile to Olivia and turned back to Rassimov. He had his arms crossed over his chest, like me, and he was glaring at me. I returned it with a glare of my own, but I knew I was dead.

"You are so in for it." Olivia whispered in a hushed tone. I kept my stone face while keeping my glare at him. Fear crept up my throat, making me want to whimper. He had already hurt me today. He already made me scream. I didn't want him to do it again, but I didn't show it. If I did, he'd have the satisfaction of knowing he won. And proving him right and letting him win was the last thing I wanted.

"Shut up." I whispered back in the same tone, if not, quieter, not letting the fear show in my voice.

"Please excuse me for a minute." Rassimov said,turning back to the auburn haired man. He nodded his head. For a second I thought I saw a thin circlet of silver hiden in his hair.

"Of course." He replied. Rassimov gestured for me to come over to him. Olivia sunk farther into the shadows, for Rassimov had not seen her. I hesitently came over to him. He wouldn't hurt me with someone over, would he?

I was wrong. Rassimov grapped my arm and jerked it hard. Then, still holding my arm in the same position, he kicked me in the stomach. He then kicked my feet out from under me, letting go of my arm. I felt blood start to soke my dress again, making it even worse, as I crashed to the ground. I bit my tongue to stop myself from screaming. My vision started to blur. When I could see again, all I saw was the cold, stone ground. I groaned out in pain and looked up at the ceiling. I could feel Rassimov's eyes burning into my back as I turned over, obviously displeased that I didn't scream, but was glad to see that my blood started to decorate the ground again.

If I ever had any doubt that Rassimov didn't wish me dead, a horrible, torturous death that is, it faded that second. He hated my guts.

 **Dante**

I gasped as the midnight blue haired slave started to bleed on the floor. She groaned out in pain, but managed to contain her scream in. I was shocked by her ability to stand up to her own master, something not found in many slaves. She just stood up to her master and said that Rassimov was horrible. She was brave, just if I left her in this state, she would most likely die. It's a miracle she lived this long.

Suddenly, a girl with brown hair simular to Carter's and in a simular dress to the blue haired girl ran out of the shadows. Her dress was green and, well, wasn't covered in blood. She knelt next to the midnight blue haired girl.

"Alright." She said, helping the other girl sit up, "Up you go." Rassimov stood with his arm crossed, smirking in amusment at them.

"I'm okay, Olivia." The midnight blue haired girls said, "I'm okay." Olivia eyed her friend worriedly, but didn't leave her side.

"Are you sure?" She asked. The blue haired girl nodded, so sure of herself, but when tried to get up, she crashed to the ground. Rassimov smiled at them. Olivia knelt on the ground again and made her friend lean on her. She helped her retreat to the shadows.

I didn't think it was possible to be even more angry with the Slave Trade than I was, but watching Rassimov abuse his slave right before my eyes made the anger inside of me boil like hot lava.

"How much for her?" I asked, trying to contain my shock. Then, I got an idea that might convince him to this. "And, as a bonus for you, I could tame her down for you." That wasn't a lie. I would tame her down, if needed, just not the way he might be thinkjng of.

I glanced back at the slave. She was glaring at me hard, scaring me alittle. Even with the blood dripping from her dress, she was scary.

 **Zhalia**

Great. Just perfect. I knew what he was thinking. If Rassimov hands me over to him, he might make Rassimov look like the fairy godmother. You know, from that story I've heard about. The one about the girl who needs help and that fairy comes and helps her. Cinder-something.

"Uh oh." Olivia said, "You are so dead! Considering your state, he might kill you within the first day." She's told me all the stories about slave owners "taming" down their spit fire slaves like me, and might I say, it's not good. For the slave, I mean.

"And then," I continued, sick of listening to Olivia rant, "Rassimov turns his attention to you when the man brings back my beaten corpse. And you get tortured with a dagger for the rest of your days, before joining me in death. And might I say, your days will be numbered." That escalated quickly. But it did the trick. I turned and looked back at Olivia. She knew what happened to me, but the realization of what I actually go threw everyday was now dawning on her. I turned away again. Olivia kept quiet. I watched Rassimov and the man continue to talk, but I could feel the tension in the air. If it didn't end soon, a fight would break out.

"Nice image you've given me." Olivia muttered. Then, a little louder, she said, "You do not understand how scared I would be if I saw someone walk in her with your beaten, broken, bloodied, dead body, and dump you on the ground. Then, walk away. And yes, I've empathize that, because I know with your stubbornness, that would happen. You don't give up." She paused and took in a deep breath. "I would have to watch Rassimov burn your body, smirking at how you are finally dead. I would not be able to take it." Olivia's voice broke. I instantly felt bad for bring that up. Olivia was my best friend and she loved me. I loved her too, I just couldn't show it without Rassimov turning to her. He could hurt her.

"Rassimov thinks I should not be around you anymore." Olivia cried. I froze. I knew Rassimov was cruel, but I didn't think he would make my best friend turn against me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning back to face her. Tears were streaming down her face. I reached over and squeezed her arm before pulling away again. She advoided eye contact with me.

"Rassimov was talking about selling me again." She admitted, breaking into a crying fit, "I was not alowed to tell you that." Even though I couldn't see my face, I knew my stone face had melted. Selling Olivia? No, he couldn't. She was the most perfect slave you could get. She always listened, did what she was told, and never tried to escape from the power of those above her. If Rassimov wanted to sell anyone, he should sell me. I'm the opposite of her.

"He marked you." I gasped, realizing that this was impossible. "Did he not?" Olivia nodded and made my mind spin 5 thousand times a second. You couldn't sell a marked slave. Everyone knew the rules. No one sold marked slaves, that's how it went.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I tensed and turned around. The auburn haired man had come up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He touched me. No one ever touched me, unless it was Rassimov, his guards bringing me forcefully to him, or Olivia. No one touched me of their free will. I was a slave, and that was enough for people not to touch me. Even other slaves wouldn't go near me. I was Rassimov's play thing and that was it. Olivia was an exception, but it came with a price. She had no other friends. I had to stop myself from hitting him. Rassimov was here and he could do something to me. I didn't want to know what.

"We are to leave now." He said. I froze again. I hated being here, but still, it was the only home I had ever know. I didn't remember much about my first home. My memories of that place were replace by this place.

"Come." He said, "We are to go." I glanced back at Olivia before looking back at the man. I became very good at telling what people radiated, he radiated something different than Rassimov. I just couldn't tell what.

"Come." He said again and took a few steps back. I hesitently stepped forward. One, two, three steps, before stopping again. Rassimov saw I was listening and left. Knowing he was going to get what he wanted.

"Come." He wasn't mad at me, at least, he didn't sound like it. He was patient. If this had been Rassimov, I probably would have been beaten unconscious right now. But he wasn't mad at me.

Then, in a lower voice, he added, "I will not hurt you. Come, we must leave. It is dark and I do not have a torch." He walked a few steps and beckoned for me to follow. I followed, but I didn't trust his words. Not hurting me. That's some sort of a joke. I know it is.

He gave me a smile and started walking away. I took one more glance back at Olivia, giving her a small smile, and ran to catch up. I felt Olivia's sad eyes following me, as if she was already planning on me coming back dead.

We walked out the front gates. I considered trying to run away, but there was no doubt that he would catch up to me and I'd probably be beaten. And I didn't want that. Whatever chance I had with him not beating me tonight, I would take. I needed to rest.

It was indeed getting dark, but the sun had not fully gone down, making the sky have splashes of pink, red, and orange. Looking over, I saw the moon rising in the distance. I've always loved the moon.

I tugged at the side of my partly blood dried dress. I didn't trust this man, like everyone else in my life. Everyone but Olivia, that is. Then, the auburn haired man turned to me, drawing me out of my thoughts.

"Perhaps I shold get something out of the way." He said. I braced myself you what he was about to say. Probably what he was going to do to "tame" me down. I'm a human. Not an animal. "I disprove of the slave trade." My heart stopped. Lier. I thought, he was lying. He had to be. If he disproved of the slave trade, than what the heck was that whole thing for? He smiled at me, obviously seeing my confusion.

"My name is Dante." He said, "What might your name be?" I bit my lip. I wish he'd just drop the act. Just get straight to the point. I hated suspense. It was often used against me.

"I don't..." I started, but changed my mind, "Um, you dislike the slave trade?" Shut your mouth, Zhalia! Don't ask questions. I glanced over at the rising moon again.

"That is correct." Dante stated, continuing with the act of being patient with me, "But I am guessing you do not believe that." I kept silent, not wanting to test him. Dante sighed. "I would not trust someone like me if I heard those words and had been treated unfairly my whole life. But you can trust me. I am to know your name, though."

"I'm Zhalia Moon." I said quickly. If I couldn't speak much today, spare me the trouble. For now, at least. I just couldn't afford it. Not today. Not with everything Rassimov did. Dante smiled at me again.

"Greetings, Zhalia Moon." He said, trying to be as warm and welcoming as possible. "Now, if it is not to much trouble, it would be nice to leave now." I nodded, but before I could I could take a step, I heard someone call my name. I turned to see and out of breath Olivia running towards me.

"He's alowed me to say goodbye." She said, stopping next to me. Then, she leaned over and gave me a hug. Now, I hate physical contact. Absolutely dispise it. But the idea of me never seeing her again alowed me too let her do this one last time. I hugged her back.

"Bye, Livvy." I said, pulling away, glancing over at Dante. He was smiling warmly, not mad at all.

"Here, Zhalia." Olivia said, thrusting a package made of cloth and string into my hands. "I made this for you, for your birthday. But, I do not think I will see you then." I went to pull the string, but Olivia stopped me.

"Not here." Olivia said, stopping my hand, "He can not find out." I nodded and gave her a small smile. She smiled back and ran back threw the front gates.

I watched her leave. As a slave, I never alowed myself to have friends. Rassimv could very easily use them to hurt me, but Olivia had been an exception. I loved her to death. Now, I might not ever see her again.

Dante reached out and touched my arm, as to get my attention. My body reacted, I didn't even think about it. It just did it. I punched him the arm and I jerked my body away from him. Any other person, other than Olivia, touching me made me jump.

Dante pulled away from me quickly and rubbed his forming bruise. I covered my mouth and looked down at the grund. I braced myself for some sort of punishment, but it never came. Instead, I heard laughing.

"One," Dante started, continuing to laugh, "Rassimov said you were troublesome, hu? I reckon you might just be jumpy and afraid. Two, punch really hard for a girl. Better than some men I have seen. You might just be the first female soldier." I didn't look up, but instead hugged Olivia's gift to my chest. I was afraid that this whole nice act was just that. An act. I was sure he would be just like Rassimov.

"We must be going." Dante said. I nodded and he led me to the place I would be staying for the next two months. I was positive they would be the worst two months of my life, which is saying alot. In fact, I was already ready to return to Rassimov's house, not wanting Dante to tame me down. Wouldn't that be the be ay when somethjng I want actually happened.

 **Hey! I'm back!**

 **This chapter is dedicated to Maryamdxz, for pestering me to no end about updating. Thanks, my good friend. You have your chapter.**

 **Thanks everyone for reading this story and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Somethings will be revealed later on, like marking a slave and taming.**

 **Anyway. *smile* say awesome!**

 **With all Huntik and awesomeness,**

 **-Carter Casterwill**


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